


Mr Pinky

by iskra667



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Humor, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iskra667/pseuds/iskra667
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silly L/L Valentine's Slash!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr Pinky

**Author's Note:**

> explicit and very, very stupid.

A $1.99 paperback “The essential W.B. Yeats”. That was the meager fruit of 5 hours of manic shopping. Now, mortals were closing off, packing up, heading back home and I was wallowing in utter desperation. Care to know the big drawback of immortality? You can’t just buy a box of chocolate. Perfume, you say, always a faultless choice? Dream on. You don’t like my natural smell, Lestat? Well, I smell of blood. You saw to that when you damned my soul all those years ago. Nag. Nag. Nag Quality clothes, then? A sturdy, useful, sensible gift for those austere souls who do not care for frivolous gadgets. You don’t like the holes in my sweater, Lestat? Are you ashamed to be seen with me? What do you think I am? Your doll? Some pretty thing to be paraded around to boost your over-inflated ego? Nag. Nag. Nag. Books, then, books! Surely you can’t go wrong with books! Books are the bookworm’s wet dream present! That’s so thoughtful of you, Lestat, to buy me books in replacement of all the ones you burned or tore up in a rage. But this title, I already have. Not that you would know, you never care to have a real discussion with me. Nag. Nag. Nag.

The truth, my friends, is that whatever I do, however hard I try, I can’t win! I am never good enough! I don’t even know why I bother. Except, maybe, to get you to pity me. Yes, pity me! Tell me what an unlucky fiend I am, it makes me feel better! Now the shops were closing, but the streets were still too crowded to break in. Plus, I did not have the slightest clue of what I should want to steal. Dejected, I walked down Bourbon Street, hands deep in my jeans pockets, gloomily kicking empty hurricane glasses off the sidewalk. 

When it caught my eye. The perfect present, gleaming like a star under the blinking neon lights in a garish window display. Parading under my eyes in all its pink magnificence. Dr Strangelove hi-tech Prostate massager. ‘Send your lover to the 7th heaven!’ offered the advertising. Surely, you could not go wrong with this. Who would not want to send their lover to the 7th heaven on Valentine’s Day?

***

“Happy Valentine, my Precious Darling!” I crooned, holding him into my arms and kissing the corner of his lips amorously. I stared at him expectantly as he opened his present, tastefully wrapped in metallic fuchsia paper with a large silver bow.

He stared at the box, then at me, then back at the box. Oddly, he did not look very happy. Or grateful. But, for the first time in decades, he was at least too dumbfounded to nag. I could not quite yet decide whether to consider this an improvement, though.

I pulled him back into my arms but he stiffened in my hold.

“Aren’t you eager to try your present, Sweet Thing?” I purred suggestively in his ear.

He escaped my grasp and snarled. “I was not sure whether this was your idea of a joke, but apparently you’re even sicker than I imagined! This is gross and vile!”

“Gross and vile? Louis, it works! It’s medically tested! Look it’s written on the box!”

I must have sounded really earnest in my protest for he somewhat softened and stroked my cheek patronizingly.  
“Yes, Lestat, this is gross! This is just advertising nonsense aimed at sexually obsessed bimbos like you… But I can see you really meant well, you were not trying to humiliate me, so that’s all right. Let’s just forget about it, shall we?”

It was my turn to be self righteous.

“What do you mean ‘forget about it’? How do you know it does not do what’s written on the box Monsieur Je-sais-tout? You’ve already tried one of those maybe?” He blushed furiously at this, just like I knew he would.

I took advantage of his momentary weakness to pull him in my arms, and whispered seductively in his ear. “Look, my Darling, it says it is especially designed to touch hard to reach secret spots… And it vibrates at a special frequency to make the pleasure last… Please, my Sweet, I was so looking forward to use this on you… You know how much I like to please you, Louis, you do… Please let me try this on you… I swear I’ll stop the minute, no! the second you say you don’t like it…”

I nipped and sucked at his earlobe, then licked the side of his face and, predictably, he melted in my arms.

“You swear you’ll stop if I tell you to?” he asked in a small, hesitant voice.

“Of course, Beloved” I purred submissively “Don’t I ever?”

“Most of the time.” He conceded. “All right, then, but just this one time, and only for the sake of experimentation.”

“Of course, Precious, why else?”

I dragged him into our bedroom and he let me undress him and lay him on the bed, reluctant yet docile. I kissed him, caressed him and petted him for a while, until I felt him relax, then I gently nudged his knees up and he complied obediently. 

I lay between his parted thighs and lovingly licked the pale skin inside, his taut belly. I laved his hardened length, pumped full of hot, pulsing blood and finally nudged the tip of my tongue at his most secret opening. He was far gone by then, his claws clutching at my hair, his legs knotted around me in an iron grip, all his ridiculous inhibitions swept away under the carpet.

I struggled in his grip to get hold of this greasy liquid mortal drug-stores sell at every street corners to facilitate this most deadly sin and slowly worked it inside him, suckling him lazily. I felt his muscles relax around my fingers as he sighed and laid back in blissful languor.

I took the mysterious little device from its box ('free batteries included!') and it whirred obligingly as I turned it on. The noise and shaking was mildly unsettling. Nothing in nature acted remotely like it! I turned it off and lubricated the thing carefully.

“Ready, Precious?” I grinned.

“Yes!” he almost snarled “Though I want you to note I'm only consenting to this so you don't ruin the night sulking, and also for the academic value of studying contemporary mortal customs!” Tough luck for him, his proud erection gave his lie little credibility.

“Of course, Sweet Pea!” I snorted, using the cheesiest pet-name of my repertoire just to spite him “Why else?”

And without further ado I proceeded to carefully inch the pink monstrosity into my Beloved's innermost sanctuary. He hissed softly at the alien feel. Good, I thought, it probably meant the little slut had been reasonably faithful to me. As a reward, I kissed him and caressed him and crooned against his skin until I felt him adapt. 

He gave a little jerk when I turned the thing on and it started to whirr but soon enough, as I lazily rubbed the vibrating device against this secret spot of his I know so well, he started to purr, and shamelessly impale himself and brought my mouth back around him with a bossy pull on my hair.

I laughed softly to myself. My quiet, proper, gentlemanly lover, now shamelessly moaning and squirming like a bimbo in heat.

In the midst of his ecstasy, his hand gripped my wrist in a desperate attempt to still me. “Please stop!” he begged in desperate urgency.

“What?!” I snarled, spitting him out in shock. “You seemed to be having the time of your life!”

“Yes! No!” my little bookworm gasped, barely coherent “I mean, no, don't stop but please, slow down, please make this last... I don't want to... just yet...” he moaned, his other hand fussing in my hair, desperate to get me to indulge him.

Now that was new! I was always the one to preside over our little games of delayed satisfaction, to decide when and how strongly my Beloved would reach his peak, while he melted like butter under my expert touch and praised my arcane talents in awe-filled whimpers!

“I thought I was the one in charge!” I bitched, and I nastily jerked the thing inside him to prove my point. He gave a little cry that sounded suspiciously more like delight than pain, but batted his eyelashes at me, and cast those wet puppy eyes at me and begged in a delightfully submissive voice “Of course, Lestat, you're in charge! But please! It's Valentine's day!”.

What the Hell could I have objected to that? Of course, I indulged him a good while longer, licking him, suckling him, massaging him with the clever device until no expert slowing down technique known to the skilled lover I am could bring him down any longer

“Jesus Christ! Oh my God!” he almost sobbed as he finally released deep in my now sore throat. I choked and fell prey to a painful coughing fit, not from the heady taste of his bloody semen, but from the sheer shock of hearing him call the name of the Lord while engaging in what he still considered, deep inside his bourgeois provincial mind, a most wicked and despicable sin. 

“Louis!” I gasped, and my face must have blanched for he emerged from his blissful stupor long enough to caress my face soothingly. He smiled, but his gaze was dreamy and faraway.

“Thank you, Lestat!” he said sweetly, raising himself from his languid posture to drop a quick kiss on my forehead. Then, without further ado, he yawned and stretched and curled himself on his side of the bed, hugging his pillow.

“Good day, Dear!” And he was asleep before I gathered enough wits to beg for a hug, let alone a fuck.

***

The next evening, I held him tight in my arms as he slept, determined to forbid any escape before he properly fulfilled his fledgling duties.

He stirred against me, muttered something incoherent, yawned and finally fluttered his eyelashes, only to be greeted by my angry snarl: “I believe we have unfinished business!”

He smiled sweetly and gave me such an eager, languorous kiss that I could not help but soften. “You're right, we do!” he agreed, drawing his knees up in invitation.

Of course, I am far too much of a gentleman to have my wicked way with him before getting him going properly first. You may not know it, or believe it, but he does, the devious, manipulative little wretch!

And that's why I proceeded once more to licking him, petting him, pleasing him, but the mellowing of my mood was short lived, for he lay still and unresponsive in a way that froze my heart with nightmarish remembrance of our early years together.

Was he sick? Was he depressed? Had he taken to eating rats again? Was he suddenly prey to an unfortunate craving for red-haired imps?

“Is anything wrong, Love?” I asked tentatively, keeping my temper in check in case he really had some mysterious preternatural illness.

“No, No, Lestat, nothing wrong...” he denied, patting my cheek soothingly. His hand took mine and he pulled me up to him and crooned, winding his arms around me “But maybe you could do something to get me more in the mood, my Love, my Golden Angel, my Luscious Demon...”

A thousand alarm bells rang in my head! Louis despises pet names and never uses them unless he's aiming to get something he knows I won't be inclined to give of my own free will!

“What?” I asked suspiciously.

“Oh nothing, my Prince, my Maker, my Wolfkiller...” he purred “Just, maybe, could we use this thing again for a little while? It seems like such a shame, you making so much effort to find me a present, and we let it rust in a drawer...”

“You've never needed anything but me to get you in the mood before!” I snarled.

“Lestat, I love you sucking me off… I love you fucking me… But the two at the same time, I’ve never… It tops everything!”

“I was not fucking you, Louis!” I screamed, painfully aware of my own unattended erection.

“No, of course not…” he conceded in a conciliatory tone, shrugging the whole matter off as though it was but a minor detail “Mr Pinky was.”

“Mr Pinky! You gave the damn thing a name!” I shouted, hurt and exceeded beyond reason.

He blushed furiously and looked intently at his feet. “Well, Dr Strangelove hi-tech Prostate massager sounded a bit too businesslike… not very intimate…” he confessed.

“I remember a time when you were quite fond of businesslike intercourse!” I hissed in my nastiest tone.

“There, there, Lestat…” he said, patting my head patronizingly “don’t take it personally! Mr Pinky is the product of years of research by medical and engineering specialists about how to best pleasure the discerning gentleman. You’re just the result of genetic lottery!”

***

That night I prowled the city in a foul mood.

Was it the tragic destiny of flesh and blood creatures in this digital age, to be made obsolete, redundant, replaced by cyborgs and robots? Perhaps that would be a good subject for my next book. Yes, branch into post-apocalyptic cyberpunk.

But I am a man of action, a go-getter, not one to wallow in misery for long! If Louis had replaced me with a cyborg-lover, so could I! Besides, now that Valentine's Day was past, they would be on sale, and The Vampire Lestat always loves a good bargain.

Once more, my moody steps led me to Bourbon Street...

***

When I came home later on, my twisted wretch of a lover was in some kind of conciliatory mood for he looked up from his Times Picayune to smile sweetly at me, and handed me the Society pages.  
He knows how crucial it is for me to keep up with who is divorcing whom, who caused a scandal at the Debutante Ball and, most importantly, which of our neighbors have been invited to have their house photographed for the cover of 'Southern Elegance' before me (one of the few occasions in life when a serial-arsonist lover comes in handy). 

I thanked him and immersed myself in the paper. “Louis! Have you heard that?!” I gasped a few minutes later.

“What?” he asked, mildly bored.

I grinned my evillest grin at him. “Mr Pinky had a long lost brother!”

He raised an eyebrow and I triumphantly retrieved a box from behind my chair.

“A half brother from London! His name's David!”

He blanched, and snarled, and hissed, and spat a string of colorful invectives at me.

But I was far too busy escaping to the bathroom with my new Big Ben shaped cyborg-lover to pay him any attention.

THE END :D


End file.
